Anniversary
by einstinette
Summary: It's an incredibly bad day for Stiles and he is having problems holding himself together. It is up to a certain alpha to open his own wounds in order to staunch those of the younger boy's. Is he strong enough to do it or will both fall under the heavy blade of despair? (One shot) Better than it sounds. Read despite the horrible summary. Read and review.


Anniversary

Chapter 1

**Third Person POV:**

**'**Why oh why did his mom have to go on vacation this week?' Scott lamented as he nervously paced the pine floor of the cabin, running his hands through his already disheveled hair. Out of all of the weeks in the year, this was the one when his best friend needed him the most and he wasn't there.

Scott sighed for the thousandth time in an hour, unable to enjoy the picturesque sea and sand of the pristine beach that sat just outside of the sliding glass doors. He laid there unsure of how to handle the wild storm that he knew was brewing on the horizon, and that was about to crash over one particular house in Beacon Hills.

All of a sudden an idea crashed into his mind, making him hit his own head and say, "Duh!" Maybe he couldn't be there, but there was someone else who could.

The large muscular man laid on the ground, his arms pushing him up and then lowering him to the ground. Two hundred. Two hundred and one. Two hundred and two. He grunted slightly, continuing to push in the mostly silent room as he rose and fell gracefully. The loud polyphonic tone of the cell phone caused the normally stoic Derek Hale to jump in surprise. Luckily, there was no one there to see his momentary lapse of control.

His cold gray eyes stared at the screen, cursing whoever had the nerve to send that text. Scott, of course. His beta would be the one to disturb him, and make him regret ever giving him that phone number in the first place. He thought about ignoring it, but some part of his brain niggled at his thoughts and demanded that he stop being stubborn for once in his life. Derek sighed, but, reluctantly, he opened it.

_Derek-_

_ Go check on Stiles. He's going to need someone today._

Normally Derek would snort and ignore a direct order from his beta but there was something there between the black and white words. A desperate pleading that said that his third pack member needed him.

Before he could even think, his feet were flying and the wind was whipping past him as he ran towards Stiles' house because his car just wasn't fast enough.

Ten minutes and thirty-two seconds. It took him exactly that long to end up on the front porch of Stiles' white house. He didn't see the sheriff's car, meaning that he was on patrol. Good, perhaps that would make this somewhat easier, because he'd hate for Mr. Stilinski to be there and see him dragging his son's body out of the house. Simply put, that wouldn't be very good.

But he was wasting time, standing outside of the door and creating false possibilities. No, what he needed was the absolute truth of the matter. He needed to know what was wrong. As a tough alpha werewolf Derek did not bother with mundane things such as knocking. Instead, he threw the door open without ceremony, eyes scanning every shadow in every corner.

As he entered the house, he felt a stone of worry settle in the pit of his stomach. Stiles was too careful to leave the door unlocked like that. Not only that, but he had seen neither hide nor hair of the boy yet. Usually by now he would have at least caught a glance of a pair of terrified brown eyes.

It was frightening, but the man refused to allow fear to cloud his judgment. He was better than that. Derek allowed the wolf inside of him to lead the way upstairs to the boy's room. He threw the door open and entered, senses alert, and eyes pricked for danger.

What he saw there rattled the strong man to his core. Stiles, the usual quirky, sarcastic teen, was huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth. Tears surged down from his large brown eyes, soaking his shirt. He looked like he had just woken up, his short hair messy, his clothes soaked in sweat and tears with dark purple bags hanging under his eyes. He was an absolute mess.

And so was Derek. No wonder Scott had wanted him to come over. But he had called the wrong person. Derek didn't know how to deal with emotions, let alone something of this magnitude. A part of him wanted to tuck tail and run, but he couldn't allow himself to do so. Anyone else, but not Stiles. Not when he was like this.

The older man took a hesitant step into the room. "Stiles…" he murmured, not wanting to break the delicate silence, though he needn't be worried because where ever the boy was, it was far from that room. Far from him.

The alpha settled next to him, his back against the smooth wall. "Stiles…" he shook the teen gently. No response. Every part of him rebelled against it, but he was scared. Derek Hale was terrified. What should he say? What should he do? There was only one thing that he _could _think of to do. He shook him again, harder this time. "Stiles!" he yelled his voice echoing off the walls.

The haze lifted slightly from the teen's brown eyes. Something told Derek that his was all he was going to get right now. "What's wrong?"

"She's dead… she's dead," he whispered, his eyes, staring into a nightmare world of specters and demons.

Panic warred inside of the alpha, eroding his facade of calm. "Who? Who's dead?" Who? Lydia? Was that why he was so upset? His crush was gone, and he would never see her again? But no, it couldn't have been true, he would have heard about that by now.

It took what felt like forever for Stiles to his voice so that he could speak again. "Mom…mom's dead." A cold sensation swept across Derek's heart. His mother… "S'my fault."

His fault? Of course not. Derek remembered Mrs. Stillinksi's death. She'd caught a rare, incurable disease that had caused her to slowly wither and for her systems to shut down. At the time Stiles would have been young, maybe nine or ten years old.

"It wasn't your fault," the alpha assured his beta. But he wasn't buying it.

Derek didn't blame him. He knew what it was like to see the ones you love most, to have them ripped from your arms so suddenly. He also knew about the blame, so sure that it was your fault and hating yourself for it.

Unpleasant memories fought to the surface of his mind. He saw columns of flames licking at the wood of his home. He heard the terrible screams of his family with that of his mother, ringing higher than any other.

He stood there frozen in shock, unable to do anything. He had just watched them die, inhaling the acrid scent of burning skin and hair. The last thing that he remembered seeing was his mother's beautiful face pressed against the basement window. Sweat plastered her long, dark hair to her face as she struggled for breath. Her blue eyes met his, filled with some indescribable emotion before she sank down into the inky bowels of death.

Derek knew he could have done more. He should have tried to open the window. When he finally did come to his senses it was scorching hot, and his entire family was dead

Days later, he sat staring at his scorched hands. His palms were covered in second degree burns and the proverbial blood of his loved ones. This was all his fault and he had to live with it for every day of the rest of his miserable life. Why, oh why, did he have to fall for such an evil bitch? What was wrong with him?

He had done nothing and deserved every moment of his pain, but Stiles was innocent. He had done nothing to deserve this crushing sweep of despair that engulfed him.

The alpha didn't know what to do. No one in their right mind would ever even attempt call him "comforting." But as he sat there, his mind travelled back to the dark days after the fire. The only thing that had kept him sane was his sister, Laura. Somehow, she had been able to pierce his armor and make him feel… almost human again.

That was it. He couldn't think like himself, rather he had to think about himself. What had made him feel better when he felt like this?

He scooped the gangly teen into his arms like he was nothing more than a kitten before placing the child in his lap. He just hugged him closer, patting his back and rubbing his hand through the boy's short brown hair.

Stiles shivered at the sudden touch of the extremely warm male, but otherwise paid no attention to the fact that he was even there.

"Stiles!" Derek shook him roughly, trying not to break down or break the fragile creature that was in his arms. "Listen to me, it wasn't your fault. She was sick."

"I love her…" he muttered.

"She loved you too, more than anything."

The haze cleared for a moment, just long enough for the normally quirky teen to recognize the owner of the strong arms that held him grounded to this life. "Derek," he whispered, leaning into him. "She's gone…"

"I know Stiles. I know."

Tears rolled down his cheeks, spotting his bare chest. Derek just patted his back as the wracking sobs shook his beta's slim frame. This heartbreaking crying continued for another half an hour until there were no tears left. In their place was a rich emptiness, like a void yearning to be filled. "I miss her," he muttered.

"I know."

"Does this pain ever go away?" This man was the only other person that he knew who had been through this, who actually seemed to understand how he felt.

But what should he say? Tell the truth? It's what he would have wanted to know at the time, what would have made things somewhat easier. "No, it's always there under the surface and sometimes it'll seem like it's gone completely. You won't feel it for days or weeks, and then out of nowhere it'll hit you like the first time all over again."

Stiles nodded, expecting this. Of course it wouldn't just stop tearing him apart. That would just be too damn convenient.

"You know what does help?"

"What?" He knew there was no secret answer, but still he couldn't help but secretly wish there was.

"Talking about it."

Talking? Derek Hale didn't seem like the type to talk; he seemed more likely to punch feelings into submission and then gloat over his victory. But that wasn't the point. Stiles needed this more than even he could describe.

Stiles just started talking, telling every story that he could remember. His birthdays, Christmases, his mom's favorite flowers, her favorite color. Any and everything that came to his mind came mouth in what he knew must be barely comprehensible.

And for the first time all day he smiled slightly. "And mom laughed so hard that she cried," he finished.

"She sounds amazing," Derek said, chuckling in spite of himself.

"She was," his voice dipped back into those sad tones that he used so well.

"She still is. She may not be here with you physically, but she's still here in your heart, in your memories."

The teen didn't say a word as those thoughts sank in. A cool breeze blew into the room, causing his thin chest to shudder violently. Derek looked down at the goose bumps that covered the boy's pale arms and chest. Without a thought, he removed his signature leather jacket and draped it on the boy who really needed it. Stiles leaned into the warmth gratefully. Amazing, it felt amazing.

"I don't know what to say."

"Sometimes you don't need words." A truer statement had never been said. Just being there, together was more than enough to convey the things that neither could ever say out loud.

"I feel like it's my fault."

"It's not." His voice was so serious, so hard with an edge like steel.

The teen didn't understand why the man was so angry. Other than speak the truth, what had he done? "It is."

"It's not," he repeated. "If she was still alive, she'd be proud of you. Believe that."

A dark chuckle erupted from his mouth. "Yeah, a hyperactive screw up like me. Who wouldn't be proud? Face it, I'm a total loser."

The alpha couldn't believe his ears. The teen always seemed so… self-assured. Was this really always just underneath the surface? "You're not a loser. You're different. Smart. There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's kind of the difference between life and death for this whole town."

"I feel like a waste." He had never been so honest before. Not even with Scott, but here he was baring his soul to the moody alpha that appeared to hate everyone. And the strangest part… it didn't feel as weird as it should. In fact, it felt good, natural, as easy as breathing.

"You're not a waste. You're a hero."

"Yeah," he chuckled humorlessly. "Tell that to Lydia."

Lydia, his silly high school crush. "Look Stiles, you can't worry about her opinion of you. You're an attractive guy. There are plenty of people out there who would kill to go out with you."

The teen noticed that he had said 'people' instead of 'girls'. He saved that fact for a later time when he wasn't drifting so far out to sea. "Attractive? Me?"

Derek sighed huffily. "Yes, you, Stiles." That particular Stiles was currently panicking as he tried to tell the werewolf exactly how unattractive he really was.

Well, at least the talkative portion of Stiles was back. Now, how could Derek shut him up for just a minute? A sudden flash of thought and he had it.

The teen's flustered words cut off abruptly as the werewolf's lips made contact with his forehead. They were soft and gentle, in stark contrast with his rough stubble that felt strangely pleasant. "W…what was that?" he demanded, attempting to cover both his shock and his blush. As usual, he was epically failing at both.

"My mom used to do that whenever I would freak out as a kid. Before the…" He couldn't bring himself to say the word that would only act as a key to unlock the memories that he stored in the darkest recesses of his brain.

"Fire," Stiles supplied. "Before the fire."

"Yeah."

Here Derek was speaking kindly instead of threateningly. Actually attempting to be helpful and caring. At the very least it was confusing. "I don't get it. Why are you being so nice to me?"

"More than anyone else, I understand what's going on inside of your head. Besides, you're a part of my pack."

"Derek, I'm human."

Because he didn't already know that. "I know you're human, but that doesn't make you any less of a pack member. In all honesty, you're more important than Scott. Hell, you're even more important than I am."

Silence rang through the room. Stiles wasn't used to compliments. No one ever really said anything nice to him, and when they did it was usually just some sort of back handed insult. Stiles knew this, but Derek wasn't used to this new, more open part of his young friend. "What happened to the sarcastic smart-mouthed comic relief Stiles that I'm so used to?" Derek wondered aloud.

"He doesn't exist, he's just an act." Sarcasm. It was the wall that the teen used to hide all of his pain, because if he was laughing then he wasn't crying. And Derek understood that all too well.

"I know."

"You do?"

"You're not the only one to hide." The alpha's voice was barely more than a whisper. Why was he doing this? He was supposed to be helping the kid, not working on his own emotional issues.

"Your bravado? Your anger?"

"What?"

Tear filled brown eyes met steel gray ones. "You use anger to hide your pain. You're afraid to get close to people because you don't want any more death on your hands. And now the only emotion that you don't see as weakness is anger."

The werewolf hated this. This kid had managed to unravel him in a matter of seconds. He had laid the man on the table, and proverbially stripped him naked. There was no other way to say it. Derek Hale was feeling… vulnerable for the first time in years. "Yeah." It was all he could say, and that one word was all that he needed to say. It held so much emotion, so much overwhelming thought, and now it hung in the air before slowly dissipating.

The teen leaned forward and gently placed his lips to the older man's forehead. In that second, an unbreakable bond was made. A new feeling of camaraderie was forged between the two. From that moment on, they were irrevocably bonded by shared trauma, fears, and insecurity.

"Thank you," Stiles said.

"Thank _you_," Derek replied. Gray and brown stared into each other, seeing things that they had never seen before. Noticing things that they had never noticed before, and relishing in this moment between the two.

"So… I'm an awesome, attractive pack member?"

Derek sighed. Trust Stiles Stilinski to ruin the perfect moment. Welcome back to normalcy. "Don't push it.," he warned, a slight smile quivering on his lips.

"Oh, come on. I'm the most important, remember?"

Derek palmed his forehead. "I'm going to regret this for the rest of my life, aren't I?"

"Yeah, probably," Stiles admitted.

But with this new bond, the older man could see beyond the surface and into the slowly beating heart. "Back to the sarcasm? Back to your walls?"

Dark brows rose in response. He wasn't used to being figured out. "How'd you know?"

"Because I know myself and what I'd do if it was me." He'd pretend to be fine and wait until everyone was gone to silently break down alone in the dark. "And I'm not going to let you get away with it anymore."

"I still don't understand why you're doing this."

The hard planes of his face tightened as he looked into the troubled brown pools that were so full of fear and insecurities. "I'm only going to say this one time Stiles: you're a part of my pack, my brother. I care about you. You might even say I…" He couldn't say the words. Emotional displays like this were not his strong point, and were almost impossible to say correctly.

"Love you too Derek," he muttered, sure that the alpha's sharp ears had picked it up.

"Look. I'm here for you, you know?"

"I know." And he did. On this day it was exactly six years since his mother had died. And for the first time, he didn't feel alone.

It was funny to him that out of all of the people in his life, he had found comfort in Derek Hale. Derek who usually seemed so angry, so emotionally unavailable. He was the only one that understood this persistent, never ending pain that had launched itself into the teen's heart. Not only did he understand it, but he actually helped to soothe it.

A slight smile spread over the normal quirky teen's face as he leaned into the warmth of Derek's body and his signature leather jacket. It smelled of him. Woodsy, masculine, and strong. "Thanks."

The werewolf just stared as he leaned in and kissed the boy's cheek this time. "If the one on the forehead was to shut me up, what's this one for?"

"To show that I'm here for the long haul. If you need me, just call me and I'll be here."

He knew that the werewolf meant it, and he was thankful. Maybe he really hadn't been that awful in a previous life, not if he had earned such a rewarding friendship. "I know."

A sort of tradition began between the two. Every year on that day, Derek would visit Stiles and spend the day, holding him and talking with him as he cried. Their relationship grew even stronger. Stiles still felt insecure, and Derek still felt angry at times, but together they were able to work through the pain of their losses and come out stronger on the other side.

Even now Stiles was still searching for the person that Derek had talked about. Though he wondered if perhaps he had found them in the place where he had least expected.

The alpha stood on the window, still preparing to leave. He'd be back later after the sheriff had come in and said his piece and settled into bed. "See you soon."

The teen nodded, removing the leather jacket and attempting to return it to its rightful owner. "Don't forget your jacket."

Those deep gray eyes stared down at his friend. "Keep it."

"What?" It was his signature, a part of the bad boy that he pretended to be. And after all what was an actor without his costume?

"You heard me. Keep it."

His voice sounded sincere. Stiles looked skeptical, but there was something in those eyes that told him to do what the wolf said. With that being acknowledged, he slid the jacket back on, reveling in the creak of leather and the scent of Derek that always permeated all of his clothes. "Thanks again."

"No problem." He made a move to leave.

"Wait!" Stiles called.

The alpha spun around. "What?"

He struggled for the words that he wanted to say. "Thanks. I…I.. care about you."

A genuine smile graced the normally sullen werewolf's face. The sight was almost blinding, those beautiful white teeth, glistened behind his full pink lips. "Love you too Stiles."

As Derek disappeared, Stiles felt something that he hadn't felt in quite a while. He felt nearly complete. His mother was gone, there was no denying that, but he felt like she was up there somewhere, smiling down on him. Because he didn't feel alone anymore. He didn't feel like he was falling. For the first time in years, there was ground underneath his feet and he was standing. He knew that he was going to be okay with his mom watching him in heaven and Derek beside him on earth. What could go wrong? Even when things did, he knew that he wouldn't fall anymore. He was finally strong enough to stand. He glanced down at the jacket that represented so many inexpressible things and smiled. At least he wouldn't have to do it on his own.

**A/n:**

**Here's a new story for you guys. My first Teen Wolf story. I'm not really sure what I did here, but hey when in Rome. Right? Anyway, I hope you like it even though it's pretty OOC. Thanks for reading and just being amazing fans in general.**

** Remember to read and review the story. As always, flames are welcome, because they keep me warm and toasty at night. :D**

___**Remember: Reviews = happy camper. Happy camper = quicker updates. Quicker updates = you reading more. It's a cycle. Keep it going!**_

**Yours Truly, Madly, and Deeply,**

**Einstinette**


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